Vindication
by tjmack1986
Summary: House has alienated the last person in his life … even his team is barely communicating with him. However, when a medical emergency occurs, that causes House's life to be put on the line, Wilson and Cuddy come together to help him recover.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N:**_So, I know that I've disappeared for a very long time, and for anyone waiting for an update on With Shallow Breath, I Love You, it's coming, I swear. I got a bad case of writer's block, and couldn't write / didn't want to write anything for the longest time.

This is my first attempt at writing for House. I have been binge watching the show on Netflix (over halfway through with season 7) and I just had to write a Huddy fic, since I adore them and I'm officially sad that they broke up. Constructive Crit/feedback is always welcome ... politeness is a plus. I have a secondary fic idea, that I might write if I get enough interest from this piece. It's a three parter. I'll be posting the other two chapters later on. Until then, enjoy this first chapter, and try not to post spoilers to the remaining season 7 & season 8 episodes please.

* * *

A sigh erupted from House's mouth, as he limped forward. He tried to forget about the aching pain in his right leg, but with everything that had happened over the past week, it was getting harder and harder to ignore. When he was with Cuddy, he was happy. The pain didn't bother him so much because he actually had something to look forward too. That ship sailed when he couldn't even be bothered to be there for her, like she had been for him many times in the past.

"You really screwed yourself this time." He mumbled to himself, as he kicked at a few rocks on the sidewalk.

The week from hell, as he was now officially referring to it, started when Cuddy had cornered him in the clinic and yelled at him for a procedure that he had his team do without her permission. He had tried to play it off in his usual fashion. Mocking her and her sensibilities as a doctor. The look of death that crossed her face at his statements were the only indication that he had crossed a line.

In all the years that he had known Lisa Cuddy, he had never pushed her over that line. Sure, he had come close to it many times. In fact, House wasn't even sure how he had been able to keep his job after some of things he had said to her, but needless to say, he had pushed well passed her breaking point. She hadn't spoken two words to him since that incident.

The team had gotten barked at by Cuddy as well for listening to him. He hadn't heard the entire conversation she had with them, but what he did catch made his inside cringe. Words like _idiotic _and _failure_ weren't generally thrown around in correlation with his name, but he could see where Cuddy might be correct. The test had been extremely risky … his favorite kind to run, and it really hadn't helped them diagnose the patient at all. In fact, House felt lucky that they had been able to save him considering the circumstances.

Now the team was only speaking to him about work related stuff, and only enough to get the point across. In fact, he had caught them playing rock, paper, scissors to see who would have to bring him the new information on their next patient.

Normally, he didn't let stuff like that get to him, and to be fair, it really hadn't bothered him until today. Today was the day that he had finally crossed that uncrossable line with his best friend. Today was the day that James Wilson walked out of his office after swearing that their friendship was over. Sure, he had said the same thing before, but House had been able to see through Wilson's anger into the real problem. At that point Wilson was afraid of losing House to something as stupid as a drug overdose. Today was different. The words were biting, and left House feeling cold. Today Wilson meant it, and House didn't know how to fix it.

* * *

Cuddy groaned softly, as she stared at the never-ending pile of paperwork on her desk. It was one of House's favorite ways to get back at her. Turning in all of his paperwork at one time, insuring that she would be there half the night trying to sort through it all.

The thought of House brought her back to their fight only five days earlier. She hadn't wanted to fight with House, she never really wanted to fight with the man. Not really … not when she still loved him. He made it increasingly more difficult when he tried his hardest to hurt her. Most of the time, Cuddy was able to let his words roll off her back without a second thought, but this time it was different. This time the words weren't the hollow words of a snark-filled comment. This time the words rang true.

_House took an edgy step backward, as Cuddy's finger jabbed at his chest. He scowled at her, as he tried to forget about the nurses that were staring at them. Swallowing thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, he sneered at her before speaking. _

"_How in the hell would you know anything about what is or isn't a relative emergency procedure? It's not like your an actual doctor. All you do is sit behind your desk … on your fat ass! I'd be surprised if you even knew how to diagnose something as simple as strep throat now." _

Cuddy could tell from the look on his face and the way the words spilled from his mouth that he meant every word. Whether or not it was his intention to hurt her, she didn't know. He didn't even wait for a response after he had verbally attacked her, House had simply turned away from her and walked out of the clinic. She was left feeling hollow, cold, and hurt. It was in that moment that Cuddy had made a decision to stop speaking to House. When she had spoken to his team about them always blindly following House's lead, she had asked Chase specifically if he would relay important information to her about any of House's future cases.

Five days had passed without her having to actually talk to House, and it actually felt nice. It was peaceful to not have to fight with him every single day.

A light knock on her door signaled a visitor. "Come in," she answered, not even lifting her head from the pile of paperwork that still littered her desk.

"Cuddy." The voice was light and soft. One she knew well.

"What is it, Wilson?" She knew her tone came off harder than she intended it to, but if he was there to try to get her to talk to House again she might actually be forced to yell at him.

A sigh erupted from in front of her. Lifting her head, she noted that Wilson wasn't alone. House's entire team was with them … every last one of them had guilty looks on their faces. Cuddy wasn't sure she wanted to hear what was about to be said.

"We're worried."

Yeah, she definitely didn't want to hear it. "What has he done this time?"

Wilson's mouth open, but shut rather quickly. Foreman took a step forward, and spoke of House's best friend. "After you yelled at us for running that procedure, we all kind of stopped talking to House, unless we had to-"

Wilson interrupted Foreman, "We had a huge fight earlier today. I told him that we weren't friends anymore. I didn't mean it … well I mean, at the time I did, but now-"

Cuddy held up a hand to silence Wilson from speaking further. "Why are you worried? What, you think that House can't handle the silent treatment for a few days? He's a big boy."

Wilson shook his head, "A big boy who is on Vicodin again."

Cuddy had known that House was using again, but he had been a Vicodin addict for years. That didn't mean she didn't worry about it … or about him, it just meant that she couldn't spend all her time worrying about what House might or might not be doing. "Has anyone spoken to him since he left the hospital?"

Everyone's eyes met each other's in a questioning manor, before peering back at Cuddy. "A few of us have tried his cell and home numbers. He isn't picking up."

Cuddy sighed, it was definitely going to be a long night. "Alright, well that doesn't necessarily mean anything is wrong. He might just be avoiding everyone right now, you know how he gets. Give it another hour, if he doesn't pick up, then we'll worry."

* * *

The words echoed in her head as her heels pounded against the tile floor. She had seen House in many types of medical predicaments, but something about what the emergency room doctor had said caused her inside to cease up. All she knew for sure was that House was in critical condition. That he had apparently been mugged and beaten. The only thing she could truly think about was how she had told everyone to not worry about House while he had been lying on the sidewalk, beaten.

As she stomped into the ER, she spied Wilson, who looked whiter than a ghost. A lump formed in her throat as she approached him.

"How is he?"

Wilson shook his head. "Not good. They just ran him into emergency surgery. Possible swelling and pressure on his brain. They have to relieve it. There is barely an inch of his face that isn't black and blue … or bloody. That isn't including the broken bones. He is going to be in a lot of pain when he wakes up. I don't know how he's going to take it."

Cuddy sighed, "We'll take care of him together. We owe him that much." She didn't say the words, but Cuddy couldn't help but feel like maybe … just maybe this was partially her fault. Maybe if she had let the guys worry more when they couldn't get a hold of House, maybe they would have been able to stop his attack.


	2. Chapter 2

The hours seemed to dribble past in slow motion. Cuddy knew she should be working on the stack of paperwork while she waited, it would at the very least keep her mind busy. Yet, she couldn't find the energy to actually force herself to move. Instead, she stayed … sitting, waiting. Wilson sat beside her, his arm sat across her shoulders in a protective gesture.

She could understand in that moment why House relied on Wilson so much. It didn't explain why House tended to treat Wilson the way that he did, but she did understand House's attachment to his best friend. Wilson was the kind of guy that no matter what was going on, if you needed him he would drop everything to be there for someone he cared about.

"He'll pull through this. He's a tough bastard."

Cuddy heard the words … she knew that Wilson was right. House was one of the toughest men she had ever met. However … he was also very fragile at the same time. The addiction to pain medication was proof of that. He might survive the actual situation, but who knew what kind of shape he would be in mentally and emotionally.

"It's not the pulling through that worries me. I know that he's tough enough to make it through this, I'm worried about the aftermath. You saw what happened to him after his infarction. This is worse than that, Wilson. House isn't the picture of mental health as it is."

Wilson sighed, and Cuddy watched as he raised a weary hand to his face. He looked exhausted. His face was worn and drawn in a way that made him look much older than he actually was. To be fair, House tended to have that effect on people.

"I'm worried about the aftermath too. Believe me. I just, I have to believe that he's strong enough to pull through that too. If he's not, well then he has us … right?"

It was Cuddy's turn to sigh. She knew that she couldn't deny being there for House if he needed her. For a multitude of reasons, but the biggest one? She still loved him. Whether or not he was back on Vicodin or not, she still loved him, and she needed to be there for him. To help him. No matter what. That didn't mean that she was going to let Rachel back into his life. She had to think of her daughter this time. Rachel had grown far too attached to House when they were dating, and it was Rachel that had her heart broken when Cuddy had ended their relationship.

"Of course. I just – I have to think of Rachel too. She's my daughter. She's my number one priority, and it has to stay that way."

"I understand, but he needs to know that he has people to rely on. He doesn't trust many people, but you and me … we've been able to get past that barrier that he puts up to keep everyone else out."

"I'll be there as much as I can. It's all I can promise."

"That's good enough."

* * *

Cuddy stood just outside of House's room. Wilson had already gone inside, but Cuddy couldn't quite make her feet move. She was terrified of what she was going to see. Just how bad was it going to be. She had heard Wilson's gasp of surprise, so she knew it was going to be bad. Heaving a sigh, she took a tentative step forward, followed by another until there was only a curtain between her and House.

"Hey buddy." She heard Wilson say, as he settled down in a chair. "You look like hell."

Despite herself, a small sad smile crossed her lips. There wasn't anything remotely cute or funny about the situation, but the way Wilson had said the completely obvious words, and House's fictional response to them … she knew exactly what he would have said, gave her the feeling that while nothing was right or okay at the moment … that maybe it could be.

Taking the last few steps around the curtain, she gasped as her hand cupped her mouth. It was worse than she had expected. There was barely a space on his face that wasn't black and blue. Stitches littered his cheek, eyebrow and chin. His left leg was in a cast, which proved that he'd have to be in a wheelchair for a while. His right arm was in a sling, but without a cast.

"How is he?" She prompted Wilson.

He turned his head, and offered her a small smile. He pointed at the empty chair across the room. As Cuddy made a move to pull it up, he shrugged.

"Chase didn't say a lot. Just that the surgery went as well as could be expected. That they relieved as much pressure as they could, and that they'd just have to watch him for now. If all goes well, Chase believes he should wake up within the next few days."

The chair made a squealing noise as Cuddy drug it over toward Wilson. "That all sounds pretty good for what he's been through."

Wilson sighed, "His ER doctor suggested putting him in a medically induced coma. That it would give his brain time to heal … along with his broken bones. That it would put less stress on his body. I think he has a good point."

Cuddy turned her attention from Wilson, to House, and back. "He'd never forgive us if we did that, and you know it. After what happened with his leg. I think we should give him time first."

"The thing is, if his head injury is worse than they think it is-" Wilson trailed off, trying to find the right words. "It could cause more damage if we wait, then if we proceed."

Cuddy shook her head, "Only one doctor has suggested this?"

Wilson nodded, "But that doesn't mean he's wrong."

"I didn't say that, but Foreman was in the operating room, right?" Wilson nodded again, "If Foreman didn't think he needed to be put in a medically induced coma, then we wait."

Wilson sighed, his head hanging. "I don't think I could handle it if something happened to him and there was something we could do to stop it."

"Then you can blame me."

* * *

Pain. That was all he could feel as his body slowly came back to the here and now. He tried to remember what had happened to cause his current predicament, but there was nothing to reclaim. It was like someone had sucked out all of his most recent memories and replaced them with nothing but cobwebs and dust.

He groaned, as he tried to open his eyes. A slow, weary blink was all he could manage at first. Whatever had happened to him must have been pretty bad if he was having this much difficulty waking up. His mind immediately went back to when Amber had died, and felt his heart start to race. House was now terrified to wake up. To see who he had hurt this time.

"House? You can do it. Come back to us."

The voice was beyond familiar. A voice that could bring him back from the brink of death, House was fairly sure. Soft, silky … nice. He tried again. Another slow blink, followed by a faster one until suddenly his eyes were open.

He took in his surroundings, and grimaced. He was in the ICU. He hadn't even managed to end up in the ICU after he had been shot.

"Wilson, he's awake." He heard Cuddy yell.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought that she should be at home. Carrying for Rachel. She didn't need to be in his ICU room, waiting for his crippled self to wake up.

"House, do you know what happened?" She asked, standing beside his bed.

His mouth bobbed open and closed a couple of times before he was able to force a word out. "Water."

Cuddy shook her head, like she was internally berating herself for being stupid enough to not offer him water when he first woke up. She motioned at Wilson to hand her the cup of water on the table beside the bed. She positioned the straw, before placing a soft hand behind his head, helping him sit up enough to sip at the water offered to him.

After a few small sips, House laid back against his pillows, and took in the damage. His arm was in a sling, but didn't contain a cast, which meant it most likely wasn't broken. His left leg, however, wasn't as lucky. A cast, from what he could feel, ran up to the top of his knee. The thought of being confined to a wheelchair for months while his broken leg healed made him cringe. He could feel a bandage on his head, though he wasn't entirely sure what it was covering up. All in all, he didn't think it warranted him being in the ICU.

It was only after his internal ramblings had ended, did he remember that Cuddy had asked him a question. Something about remembering, but he didn't remember the exact question.

"You asked me something." He pointed out, before frowning deeply, "I just can't remember the question."

Cuddy shared a look with Wilson that made him feel a little uneasy. It was like the two of them were having a secret conversation and House wasn't invited to hear what it was.

"Do you remember what happened to you?" Wilson asked this time, as they both awaited his answer.

"Honestly, the last thing I remember was you-" House paused, using his good arm to point at Wilson, "walked out of my office, saying that we weren't friends anymore."

This time Wilson grimaced, hating that House's last viable memory was such a horrible one.

Cuddy grabbed a hold of the railing on House's bed, which caused House to feel the need to reach out and grab a hold of her hand. To tell her that he was fine … well aside from the incredible amounts of pain soaring through his body. Yet, he knew it wasn't his place. They weren't together anymore, and she had made it perfectly clear that she didn't much like him anymore.

"Someone tried to mug you, House. We don't know the details, so at this time the mugging thing … it's just an assumption. The police believe that you attempted to put up a fight, which caused your mugger to start beating you. They're fairly sure that whoever it was had a weapon, in order to cause the damage that you sustained."

House groaned. He wished he could remember, he might be able to help the police locate his mugger. Closing his eyes, House tried hard to pull back even a slight memory from after Wilson had ended their friendship, but nothing came.

"Hey," Cuddy whispered, putting a hand to his cheek. Careful to not press too hard against his black and blue face. "Don't try to remember anything right now, okay? You suffered a pretty bad head trauma. Foreman and Chase had to reduce some pressure and swelling. They said pushing yourself to remember could cause more harm. So, just wait for it to come back."

House sighed, "Waiting isn't something I'm good with." He whispered, before looking at her, "Besides, the longer I wait for the memories to return, the more likely it is that they won't. If I'm the only one who witnessed my own attack, then only I can identify the man that attacked me."

Cuddy frowned softly, "Please, House. Don't push yourself. At least not right away."

Nodding softly, House whispered, "Okay."


	3. Chapter 3

The next six months passed by in a slow, tedious amount of time. Most of it, House spent on Wilson's couch, except for the times when he had to use the bathroom, and had been able to talk one of his _babysitters _to take him out of the house.

He groaned as he scratched at the top of his cast. Today was the day that it would come off. His arm had been released from the sling nearly two months earlier after indicating that there wasn't further damage to his shoulder after it had been _disarmingly separated._ Since his release from Princeton Plainsboro, he hadn't seen Cuddy. She apparently hadn't been designated to babysitting duty. The thought stung just a bit, that she wouldn't at least want to make sure that he was truly okay … and that he was being well taken care of. Though to be fair, she did know that Wilson was doing all the scheduling for House's days, and that he would ensure that House was well taken care of. That didn't mean it didn't hurt all the same. It had seemed like she had at least forgiven him for the horrible things he had said, but he didn't understand why she wouldn't have taken at least one shift.

Eying the clock on the wall, House scratched at the top of his cast again before glaring at it. "I'll be happy to see you go."

Wilson should be showing up any minute now to take House to his next checkup appointment, and to have his leg cast removed. House had tried to shove the fact that after he had his cast removed that he'd have to start physical therapy, but he couldn't deny the fact any longer.

A knock on the front door, caused House to crinkle his nose in confusion. Wilson wouldn't knock on his own front door, and his other babysitters had a spare key to get in with. Slowly, House grabbed the pair of crutches that lay against the side of the couch.

"Coming!" He shouted at the door, as he tried his damnedest to get the crutches set under his arms. Two months he had been limping around on the damned crutches, and he still hadn't gotten the hang of them. Of course, he hadn't been falling quite as often as he had at the beginning.

Slowly, he swung his long legs toward the front door, before coming to a somewhat ungraceful stop in front of it. A twist of the door knob, and the door swung open, showing Lisa Cuddy on the other side.

"Oh. Hi." House muttered softly, now confused and surprised. He was almost certain that he had that dumbfounded look on his face.

"Wilson had a patient emergency and couldn't get away. He asked me if I could take you to your doctor's appointment. You're getting the cast off today, right?"

House moved out of the way before offering her to step inside. "Yeah, thank God. My damn leg itches like crazy. It'd be nice to actually scratch it." He offered her a small smile.

He made a move toward the couch, but didn't notice that the tip of one of his crutches had caught the bottom of the rug in front of the door.

Cuddy made a move to steady him, but she wasn't quite quick enough as he tumbled to the floor in a heap.

"Son of a bitch!" House yelled. He wasn't sure which leg hurt worse, or which he should cradle.

"Oh, God. Are you okay?" Cuddy asked, as she knelt down in front of him.

He shook his head, "Yeah. Not sure that I can stand up just yet, but I'm fine. I haven't fallen this hard in a couple of weeks. My body wasn't quite ready for it." He chirped, before smirking.

"You fall a lot?" She asked, concern laced her eyes.

House shrugged, "It happens when you have two bum legs, and happen to be a bit clumsy. It's not a problem. It isn't like I hit my head again or something."

Cuddy sighed, "Good. If I help you up, do you think you can make it to the couch?"

House nodded, as Cuddy placed her arms under his armpits, "Count of three?" He asked.

"One." Cuddy whispered, as she braced herself, "Two, three."

House tried to lift as much of his own weight as he could on his right leg, while trying to not bang his left leg against anything. "Damn … damn … damn." He whispered, as Cuddy helped him hop over toward the couch.

He sat with a thud, his breathing heavy. "I could use some Vicodin." He whimpered. He heard Cuddy sigh softly, "I won't, just saying I could use it."

"I thought you were using again?"

He shrugged, "Decided that I didn't want to start seeing Amber again … or end up back in the looney bin."

Cuddy smiled softly, "I'm proud of you." She patted his shoulder.

* * *

Cuddy watched as House sighed in relief when the doctor slid his cast off. She couldn't help but smile as he peered down at his slightly thinner left leg, before starting his usual massage of his right.

"How's it feel to finally have the cast off?" She questioned, with a raised eyebrow.

"Amazing doesn't even begin to cover it." House mumbled, before digging what was left of his trimmed fingernails into the skin of his left leg. "This son of a bitch has been itching for months, and now amount of stupid objects being stuck in the cast could scratch it."

Cuddy couldn't fight off the laugh that bubbled out of her mouth. "That sounds awful. I hate being itchy."

House gave her a look that said _try having an object block you from scratching it_, before looking up at his doctor that had reentered the room.

"Alright, Dr. House. I have the results back from your MRI and CT Scan we did last week. The pressure and swelling has almost completely receded. How have your headaches been?"

House shrugged, "Once or twice a week."

The doctor nodded, "That's terrific, definitely better than the every day occurrence you were having just a couple of months ago. The medicine I gave you for your migraines, is it helping?"

House nodded softly, "The imatrax is amazing. Now, if only they made something that worked that well for leg pain." He joked, as he rubbed at his right leg.

The doctor chuckled softly, "Nice to see your sense of humor is still intact," The doctor joked back. "I want to get a good xray of your left leg, see how the bone is looking and make sure it's strong enough to be without the cast."

"Either way, doc, I'm leaving here cast free. I wouldn't be able to stand one more day in that thing. I was told six months, and that period has ended."

The doctor nodded, "I most likely wouldn't have to replace the cast, it's really just a precaution. After we do that, then you'll be free to go."

House nodded at the doctor, "So, no return visit."

"Not so fast. I'd like to see you back for a final recheck in three months, after you finish up your physical therapy."

"Oh, joy!" House said with fake enthusiasm.

"By the sound of that, House, I would assume that you aren't happy to be going to physical therapy."

House threw up both hands, "You caught me." He said, before rolling his eyes. "Anything that I'm being forced to do that is going to make leg number two here, hurt worse, I'm not a fan of."

The doctor nodded, "Sorry about that, but if you want to get that leg of yours back in working shape, you'll need the therapy."

House sighed, he knew that already. It was the only thing that was literally making him go to physical therapy. If there was another way to get his left leg in working shape without the therapy, he would be doing that instead. Yet, he knew that he couldn't handle both of his legs hurting, and if he didn't do the therapy, then the higher the chance of having scar tissue build up in his leg.

* * *

House shoveled another bite of food in his mouth. Cuddy had driven him back to Wilson's place after his doctor's appointment with the promise of lunch. He only had a few bites of food left on his plate, but he remembered vividly just how good of a cook Cuddy was, and how much he missed it.

That didn't mean that lunch was a comfortable event, it was quite the opposite. They both ate in tense silence, both with particular thoughts on their mind. House's was more of a question, and it was taking everything in him to not just blurt it out. The only thing holding him back was that he was afraid of her answer.

Heaving a rather heavy sigh, House dropped his fork, he had suddenly lost his appetite. The question lingered on his tongue, and he couldn't fight against asking it anymore.

"How's come you never visited me? After I was released from the hospital, I mean."

Cuddy followed suit, dropping her fork, as she leaned forward on her hands. "I've been busy, House. I did keep track of your progress."

House smiled mirthlessly, as he shook his head. "You forget that I can read you like a book. I know when you're lying. Just..." he sighed sadly, "tell me the truth, please."

Without meeting his eyes, Cuddy spoke, "Because I was afraid of being near you. Those days in the hospital, I could feel those feelings coming back, House. I could feel myself starting to fall for you all over again. Not that it would be hard, since I'm fairly certain that I never fell out of love for you. I just, I couldn't let myself go there again. It was safer if I kept my distance from you."

House stared at her, there were two things that she said that he needed further information on. He just didn't know which one to pick first. "So, you only visited me in the hospital because what … you pitied me?" He knew that his voice sounded angrier and more agitated then he had meant it too, but the mere thought of anyone pitying him, let alone Cuddy, boiled his blood. He didn't need anyone's pity.

"No! Of course not. I know how much you can't stand anyone pitying you. I was worried about you. God, House. We didn't think you were going to make it. Me and Wilson, we feared the worse. I promised myself that if you made it, that I wouldn't leave your side until you were released from the hospital."

House nodded, her words rang true to him, so he moved on. "I guess my only other question for you then..." he paused, taking a long swig of his iced tea, before speaking again. "Do you still love me?"

It was Cuddy's turn to sigh. It was the one question that she had hoped beyond hope that he wouldn't ask. Not because she didn't want to answer it, but because it simply wasn't an easy answer. "It's not that simple, House." She paused, thinking thoughtfully for a moment before continuing. "Actually, it is. Of course I still love you. I never stopped. Me breaking up with you, it was never because I didn't love you. It was because you aren't capable of being there for me in the way that I need you to be. It's not your fault, it's just who you are. I don't blame you for it, but I couldn't in good conscience stay with you knowing that eventually something like that might happen again. I meant what I said, when I told you that I didn't want you to change. I love who you are. You are such an amazing and wonderful man, House. However, you're also one of the most broken man I've ever met. If I didn't have a daughter to think about, there is no question that we would still be together, but I have to think about her, House. She is my number one priority."

House nodded, but it didn't mean that it didn't sting any less. "I want to be better. You make me want to be a better man. I'm sorry that I let you down, I truly am. I've just never been very good at handling pain." Tears formed at the corner of his eyes.

Cuddy's heart twinged just a little, as she reached forward and grabbed hold of his hand. "I know you do, House. I've seen it. The things that you did for Rachel when we were together..." Cuddy's sentence trailed off.

House couldn't help himself. Sitting there, holding her hand, being engulfed by her beauty. He leaned in toward her, his lips parted slightly as he kissed her. It was soft, a mere brush of the lips. The sparks that electrified between them were the same the first time they had kissed, and it felt like coming home for both of them.

He pulled back, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." He whispered as he made a move to stand up.

Cuddy grabbed hold of his wrist to stop him, before pulling his head back toward her. Her lips parting, allowing his tongue immediate entrance. Their lips moved in perfect motion as their tongues dueled for dominance. Only when the need for air occurred, did they pull apart, completely breathless.

"If we do this." Cuddy started, her chest still heaving from the intense kiss, "It has to be different. I can't put Rachel through that again, I won't."

House leaned forward, placing his forehead against hers, "I swear it. Whatever you want."

Cuddy smiled softly, before brushing her lips against his again. "Now, finish your lunch so we can move on to dessert."

House glanced at her, before picking up his fork and grinning.


End file.
